“No kidding. We don’t know anything,” Chas summed it up, nothing at all. Not their whereabouts, not what was going on here, nor back home. In short, the situation sucked. And wasn’t looking up, if nothing helpful would happen soon, for a change of pace.
Talking about lost causes, dealing with John Constantine’s stubbornness sure was one of it. If it weren’t that Chas had no idea when the next time might be that they would be able to talk without half a house of maniacs eavesdropping, he might have been not as pushy in the first place, really. “You know what I mean.” He was convinced that John was well aware what he was talking about, and if he wanted to play dumb? Sure, fine, didn’t keep Chas from at least sighing at that.
Nevertheless, he raised one eyebrow doubtfully and had a hard time not to at least smirk at the last statement. “I’ll take that as a compliment, John.” He then decided, piling up the left over medical supplies and stashing them back into the cabinet, though contemplating whether he should just keep some of them on him. Mere caution.
…here’s to hoping we don’t need them anytime soon again.